


Reunited

by Guanin



Series: Reunited [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Character, Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Other, Sensuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 11:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19228249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guanin/pseuds/Guanin
Summary: “I wanted to run away with you to Alpha Centauri,” Aziraphale said, forcing himself not to hold back any longer. “I did. I really, really did, but I was afraid. I’ve been trying so hard to play by the rules. To not question heavenly authority. To believe that there is a greater good behind everything that I’m told to do. That’s why I kept pushing you away, even when I didn’t want to. I never wanted to."





	Reunited

“What would you like to do now?” Aziraphale asked when they returned to Crowley’s flat after their celebratory dinner at the Ritz.

Crowley paused midstep at the question and turned towards Aziraphale with a frown. Aziraphale struggled not to bounce on the balls of his feet in nervousness. He held his hands clasped before him, fingers barely keeping from squeezing and rubbing his skin as he waited for Crowley to reply.

“What do you mean?” Crowley asked. 

A relieved exhale burst out of Aziraphale. He had hoped that Crowley would catch his hint that he wasn’t merely enquiring on whether they should play a game or continue their conversation from the restaurant. He wasn’t very good at this sort of thing. Or any kind of good at all. Six-thousand years on Earth and yet he was completely devoid of experience in this area.

“I…” Aziraphale licked his lips, his mouth gone dry. “I was wondering, since, as you pointed out, we’re on our own side now… And our former head offices will be leaving us alone for the time being… If we… Well…”

Normally, right about now, Crowley would grow impatient, roll his eyes, and groan at him to “spit it out already”. Patience wasn’t one of his virtues, insofar as demons could have virtues. Except, when it came to this one subject. For Crowley didn’t utter a word. He stood utterly still, staring at Aziraphale, eyes razor focused behind his sunglasses, hope that dared not hope gripped in his tensing shoulders. Aziraphale really should hurry up and say what he meant already. Why was this so hard? He had been prepared to face down Lucifer Morningstar. Surely, telling Crowley how he felt should be easier. But there had never been a need for words between them. Actions had been more than enough. Yet even there Aziraphale had failed where he had wished to do more. 

“I know that we,” Aziraphale said, his fingers fluttering against his knuckles. “That I… have been holding back. In our relationship. As close as we are.... As clear as I hope my feelings towards you are… I have wanted to do more. To ask for more. I know, or I sensed… I might be wrong, obviously…”

“Angel, just spit it out, already.”

A smile jerked on Aziraphale’s lips. There was Crowley’s famous impatience. But there was so much more than that. His face, his posture, his voice, were all pleading for Aziraphale to tell him what he most wanted to hear. Aziraphale wasn’t wrong. He was sure of it. He stepped forward until there remained but a couple of feet between them, and held out his hand, palm up. Crowley looked down at it and gulped. Aziraphale shivered as Crowley took his hand. His grip was firm, yet tentative. 

“Could you take your glasses off, please?” Aziraphale asked, wincing a bit at the question. 

That wasn’t too forward, was it? He had never wanted to force Crowley to remove them, even when Aziraphale had wished to see his eyes, which was always, to be honest. Crowley took them off so fast that Aziraphale had no time to brace himself for the intensity of his gaze. His pupils were dilated more than usual, as uncertain and eager for Aziraphale to continue as the rest of him.

“I wanted to run away with you to Alpha Centauri,” Aziraphale said, forcing himself not to hold back any longer. “I did. I really, really did, but I was afraid. I’ve been trying so hard to play by the rules. To not question heavenly authority. To believe that there is a greater good behind everything that I’m told to do. That’s why I kept pushing you away, even when I didn’t want to. I never wanted to. I was scared of… Of Falling.” 

Aziraphale lowered his eyes, heat rising in the back of his neck. 

“I don’t mean that as a judgment upon you,” he continued, chagrined.

Crowley scoffed.

“How many times have I told you that I didn’t mean to fall? It just happened. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. Couldn’t follow the rules. Didn’t want to follow the rules. I don’t think that you could fall even if you wanted to. How many rules did you just break and yet you survived holy water? You’re a better angel than any of those pompous gits up there.”

Aziraphale warmed with pleasure and treacherous relief. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have still questioned things more. Followed my own judgment when I knew something was wrong. Like not going with you when you offered me a ride in 1967.”

Crowley cast him a disbelieving and appalled look. 

“1967,” he said slowly, as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Are you telling me that you’re feeling bad over turning down a ride in 1967?”

Aziraphale shifted his feet. 

“You implied more than just a ride. I know you did.”

“I didn’t imply anything. And even if I did, so what? You were perfectly in your rights to say no.”

“I know that. But I wanted to go with you. That’s what I’m saying. I always wanted to go with you, but I didn’t let myself because I was scared of doing the wrong thing. That was wrong of me. I should have held your hand sooner. Should have come here,” he glanced at Crowley’s flat, “sooner. Hell, did I want to.”

Crowley grabbed the back of Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale gasped, skin tingling at the feel of his firm, gentle fingers and the fervent intensity in his eyes.

“Listen to me,” Crowley said, his voice as passionate as Aziraphale had ever heard it. “I don’t regret a moment, do you hear me? I was always content to wait for you. Always. You don’t owe me a single apology. You think I didn’t know you were scared? Of course I did. But that doesn’t matter anymore. None of what we did or didn’t do before matters. We’re here. We’re alive. We can do whatever we want now without having to think about repercussions. Sod the rest.”

Crowley leaned forward, eyes closing as he pressed his forehead to Aziraphale’s. Aziraphale’s breath shook as Crowley’s breath gusted against his face and his wings emerged to encircle Aziraphale’s arms. Aziraphale brought out his own wings, as well, and laid them atop Crowley’s. He gasped as his nose brushed Crowley’s and reached for his waist to support himself before his knees melted and he spilled onto the floor, boneless.

“I believe,” Aziraphale said, trying not to stumble over the words, “I’m prepared to take your advice.”

“You better. It’s about time you listened to me.”

Aziraphale chuckled. 

“You are quite often wrong, too, you know.”

“Oi!” Crowley drew back, fixing Aziraphale with a narrowed eyed glare that lacked any heat whatsoever. “We’re having a moment. Don’t ruin it by being insulting.”

Aziraphale smiled beatifically. Even when Crowley pretended to be angry, he looked so precious and beautiful. Mustn’t tell him that. He wouldn’t take it well. Oh, Aziraphale was all aflutter. This was all so new. Unexplored ground for the first time in centuries. 

“I wasn’t being insulting,” he said. “I was just pointing out mutual fallibility. Occasional fallibility. But let’s get back on subject.”

Aziraphale shifted his wings atop Crowley’s, stretching and retracting them a bit to stroke along his feathers. Crowley’s mouth dropped open, his eyelids drooping in pleasure. Aziraphale smiled tentatively, excitement trembling in his belly. 

“Do you like that?” he asked.

“It’s stupid to ask a question you already know the answer to,” Crowley said, his breath short. “Is this what you meant when you asked what I wanted to do?”

Aziraphale nodded, biting his lip. 

“I have thought about… Fantasized might be the better word… About holding you. Touching you. I thought, perhaps…” Aziraphale raised his left hand and placed it gently on Crowley’s chest, fingertips barely pressing. “You might have thought the same.”

Crowley retracted his hand from Aziraphale’s nape and placed it atop Aziraphale’s left, pressing it hard against him. His heart beat soundly beneath Aziraphale’s palm, his warmth radiating through Aziraphale’s hand. 

“We’re on the same wavelength, angel,” Crowley said. 

He grinned that same smile from so long ago, when he had slithered up on Eden’s wall beside Aziraphale and joked about doing the right thing or the wrong thing, so carefree and friendly that Aziraphale couldn’t resist laughing alongside him until he realized that he was sharing a friendly moment with a demon! Yet, despite his horror at his own carelessness, the instant that rain began to fall, he extended his left wing over said demon. Just because they were enemies didn’t mean that Aziraphale couldn’t be courteous. Especially when Crowley was being so nice to him. Even back then, at the very beginning, Aziraphale had been unable to resist Crowley’s charms. Yet it had been more than charms. He had sensed, deep down, the goodness in Crowley intermingled among the devilry. 

“What would you like to start with?” Crowley said, an eager hiss lingering on the edge of that “s” sound, his gaze beguiling.

Perhaps a bit more devilry at the moment. Now that Aziraphale was finally inclined to be honest with himself, he admitted that he had been drawn to that just as much. 

“Surprise me,” Aziraphale said, aiming for a silky, flirtatious tone, but it sounded more bouncy than he intended. 

Crowley didn’t mind, though. His grin widening and eyes sparkling, he lowered his head to Aziraphale’s neck and began to kiss. And nibble.

Oh. Aziraphale shivered. This was quite… unexpected. Delicious. It was hard to think right now. He grasped Crowley’s waist, fingers curling into his skin. His eyes slid shut, all focus centered on Crowley’s warm lips, which were keen to explore the surface of his neck and jawline with achingly impassioned touches. He had dared consider this possibility once. Long ago. He’d thought about kissing Crowley’s own neck, but this would do. More than do. 

“You’re enjoying this,” Crowley said, delighted and inordinately pleased with himself, but there was a hint of relief in his voice as well. 

Aziraphale gasped as Crowley pressed his teeth to Aziraphale’s earlobe, tugging gently. That he hadn’t thought of. Why hadn’t he thought of it? It was brilliant. Truly brilliant. 

“This would work better if you lost the tie,” Crowley said. “Not that you have to,” he added quickly, drawing back to meet Aziraphale’s eyes. 

Fondness glowed in Aziraphale’s chest at Crowley checking that he was alright.

“I do want you,” Aziraphale said, waving the tie away. “I think it might be good if we both shed some clothes.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice. A bed would also help. Lucky for you, I actually have one.”

Aziraphale frowned at the subtle jibe.

“I’ve never actually needed one before,” he said.

Crowley stepped back and tugged him by the hand down the corridor. 

“But I’ll consider getting one now,” Aziraphale continued. 

“Oh? You’ll consider it?”

“Alright. I’ll get one. I’ll have to shift some books around.”

He supposed, now that Gabriel was no longer breathing down his neck about frivolous miracles, that he could miracle a new floor to his building and make it so that no one noticed anything. It would certainly be worth the investment. Crowley led him into a massive bedroom with a spectacular view of Hyde Park. An equally huge four poster bed sat right in the midst of it, covered in rich, burgundy sheets. Aziraphale frowned at the painting above it, a stormy landscape of the city of Toledo.

“Isn’t that one in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York?” he asked.

Crowley smirked his best, demonic grin. 

“That’s what they think. Oh, come on,” he added as Aziraphale narrowed his eyes in disapproval. “They can’t tell the difference. Besides, Doménikos gave it to me himself. It’s not like I stole it, so don’t you wag your nagging finger at me.”

Aziraphale’s frown lifted.

“Oh, alright. I suppose it’s not reprehensible, in that case. Besides.” Aziraphale ran his fingers along Crowley’s right shoulder with a grin. “There are far more interesting matters that I’d rather occupy my time with.”

Crowley’s eyes glimmered with excitement.

“Damn right.”

Stepping back, Crowley swept his hand in front of him and his clothes dissolved, replaced only by an Egyptian style kilt in black which hugged his hips. Aziraphale swept his gaze down Crowley’s body, a blush sprouting on his cheeks. He and Crowley had seen each other fully unclothed lots of times, especially at the Roman baths, but it had been centuries since Aziraphale had seen so much of his bare skin. And he had never allowed himself to look his fill before, not like he had yearned to. There was nothing holding him back now. True to his snake self, Crowley was all lean and sinuous, his muscles compact, stomach flat. Crowley’s smile grew, teeth shining white.

“Your turn,” he said, nodding at Aziraphale. 

“Oh.” Aziraphale looked down at his suit. “Right.”

He had been thinking of slipping into a comfortable set of pajamas. He had never had a reason to wear any and now had seemed an excellent opportunity. But it was a bit uneven for him to cover up so much while Crowley was barely clad in anything at all. 

“I suppose I could follow your example,” Aziraphale said, exchanging his clothes for a kilt. White, in his case, with the feel of the softest, most expertly woven linen, the sort that humans had sadly done away with in favor of machine-made fabrics. Hs effort had the intended effect of drawing an appreciative look from Crowley, as well as a delighted grin. Aziraphale smiled in turn. Oh, he was so excited that he could float away from the joy of it. Even his wings were all flappy. But they might be a bit in the way on the bed, so he tucked them away.

“Your move,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale stepped forward and placed his hands on Crowley’s shoulders.

“Well, I wouldn’t be amiss to you continuing your exploration from earlier.”

Just when Aziraphale thought that Crowley’s grin couldn’t get any wider. 

“Nothing would give me more pleasure,” Crowley said.

He kissed Aziraphale’s neck as he pushed him back to the bed. Aziraphale allowed himself to fall on his back and scooched to lie down as Crowley climbed atop him, one leg pressing between Aziraphale’s own. He latched on as soon as they were settled. Aziraphale closed his eyes, gasping once more at the delicious sensation of Crowley’s mouth, now free to explore beyond his neck and down to his shoulder. 

And his arm.

And his chest.

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s head, sinking his hands in his hair. Even that was soft. Every bit of him touching his body was so soft and warm. Was that a moan that had just slipped past Aziraphale’s lips? Oh Lord in Heaven, it was. 

“We should have done this years ago,” Aziraphale said.

My. His voice had gone all croaky. 

“Don’t apologize again,” Crowley said, nipping at Aziraphale’s stomach. “You’ll ruin the mood, and I will not stand for that.”

Aziraphale laughed despite himself. But he should apologize. Crowley deserved every apology, despite what he had said. But he was the aggrieved party, and if he didn’t want any, so be it. Aziraphale slid a hand down Crowley’s back, smiling at the enticing feel of his skin.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I will refrain from doing so.”

Crowley’s hands stroked up Aziraphale’s sides as if in acknowledgment, a hasty, desperate motion. His wings, which he had folded away, arose again and stretched out, tips hovering beyond the edges of the mattress, a sign of his immense excitement. Aziraphale gazed at his wings, entranced by the play of color painted on his feathers. Not unlike a certain corvid, Crowley’s feathers only looked black from a distance or under insufficient light. Close up, a riot of different shades was revealed. The tops were a deep, forest green, melding into a rich, sapphire blue as you went down his wings, ending in a subtle burgundy that accented his flaming hair. All of them shone with brilliant iridescence. Aziraphale coaxed a bit more light from the lamps to better regard their beauty as he stroked his fingers atop them, reverential.

Crowley paused, narrowing his eyes as he looked up. 

“Did it get brighter in here?” he asked. 

“That was me. I wanted to get a better look at the colors of your wings. I can dim the light if you prefer.”

“No need.” That self-satisfied smirk returned to Crowley’s lips. “So you like my wings, do you?”

“They are beautiful. Far nicer than any others I’ve ever seen.”

“Are they now?”

Crowley pushed himself up on his knees, legs on either side of Aziraphale’s waist, and held his wings aloft, encouraging the light to dance on his feathers in a captivating shimmer. His wings, his flirtatious face, his domineering posture, all captivated Aziraphale. A hot sensation of awe pooled in his belly and flushed his skin.

“You,” Aziraphale emphasized the word, “are the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen.”

He poured all the love that he felt for Crowley, his best and often only friend throughout the ages of the Earth, the one being for whom he’d be willing to sacrifice everything, even his very existence. Crowley’s eyes, those serpent eyes that shouldn’t look at home on a human-shaped face yet worked perfectly, softened. The teasing edge on Crowley’s lips smoothed out into fond and astonished warmth. Crowley was usually very quick to agree with favorable assessments about his looks, yet now he paused, taken aback. Aziraphale trembled at the fact that he had this effect on him. He sat up and kneeled beside him, grasping his face in both hands to lean his forehead against his. Crowley’s wings and arms quickly encircled him once more. They remained like this for the longest time, breath erratic, with no need for words to break the comfort of the silence around them.

Until Aziraphale got the urge to continue their explorations, that is.

“My turn,” he murmured before kissing Crowley’s cheek and turning them around, prodding Crowley to lie down on his back. Crowley did so with no more urging, folding his wings away before hitting the mattress. An unfortunate loss, but a necessary one, as it allowed Crowley to shift beneath him in slow, sinuous motions as Aziraphale was given free rein to kiss Crowley’s chest. No nibbling, though. He wasn’t the sort. At least, not yet. Perhaps later he’d be feeling more courageous to do so. At the moment, he was overwhelmed as it was just doing this much. Being allowed to do this much. Asking to begin with. Crowley had always been such a lively, bountiful presence in his life. As necessary, expected, and welcomed as oxygen was for humans, yet they had come so close to losing each other. Aziraphale’s hands tightened on Crowley’s waist, his lips trembling as he kissed Crowley’s stomach in pleading apologies for his trespasses against him, for being such a coward, for valuing duty and blind obedience over their love. Crowley’s hands on his back and wings felt like a blessing, a turning of the page, a forgiveness that Aziraphale would do his utmost to earn. Crowley’s skin burned under his touch as if hellfire blazed within him, but this kind would never harm Aziraphale. Never. He rubbed his cheeks up Crowley’s chest, kissing his shoulder before continuing up his right arm, slowing down to nourish every inch of his skin with a soft kiss. He held Crowley’s hand in his own. Crowley twined his fingers around his, squeezing harder as Aziraphale began kissing his knuckles. 

Crowley’s left hand slid down Aziraphale’s side, palm lying flat over his chest for a moment, drawing a shiver from Aziraphale before encircling his waist and holding him close.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

Aziraphale sucked in a startled gasp at the raw emotion in Crowley’s voice. Breath frozen in his throat, he forced himself to look down at Crowley’s face, which was drawn and tight, eyes shiny, too shinny. Were those tears waiting to fall? He had only known Crowley to be close to tears once, when Aziraphale had appeared before him at the pub Crowley had holed himself into at the end of the world. He had been drawn to his spirit, guided to him like a migrant bird following generations of honed instincts. Crowley’s voice had shaken then, wet and unsteady, so desperate and helpless that Aziraphale had ached to reach for him. 

“You didn’t lose me, dearest,” Aziraphale said now, smiling, trying his best to reassure him of his presence by pressing another kiss to his hand and stroking his cheek. Crowley grabbed his hand, holding it fast, breath shuddering. He blinked rapidly. Aziraphale’s eyes narrowed with concern. Crowley never blinked much at al. He was fighting to keep the tears back. Aziraphale’s throat clenched painfully tight. He lied down alongside him, pressing himself tightly to his side, grasping his face with both hands and kissing his forehead.

“It’s alright,” he said, his own voice shallow now. “Let it out.”

“I’m a demon,” Crowley growled, as if the very idea of showing such weakness offended him, even as he grabbed onto Aziraphale’s back so hard that it almost hurt. 

“We’re not bound to any of those expected behaviors anymore, remember? We can do whatever we want. Whatever we need.” Aziraphale kissed his cheek, blinking as a tear slipped onto his eyelashes. “Please, love.” 

Crowley sucked in deep breaths, fiercely holding onto his composure, what little he had left, but he gave in even more quickly than Aziraphale expected. With a ragged gasp, he hugged Aziraphale to him and buried his face in his neck, finally allowing himself to cry.

**Author's Note:**

> Doménikos is the first name of the painter known as El Greco. The corvid Aziraphale refers to is the Common Grackle, which has the most shimmery feathers. There is nothing common about that bird.


End file.
